


'Fiat iustitia nec pereat mundus'

by regnumveritatis



Series: There is no such thing as "too much Luke/Rey"! [8]
Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alpha Rey (Star Wars), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Tudor Era, Arranged Marriage, Awesome Leia Organa, Child Leia Organa, Cinnamon Roll Finn, F/M, Finn and Rey (Star Wars) Are Related, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Leia Organa Deserves Better, Luke Skywalker Deserves Better, Minor Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Older Man/Younger Woman, Omega Luke Skywalker, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Political Alliances, Poor Obi-Wan, Prince Luke Skywalker, Protective Finn, Religious Conflict, Roman Catholicism, Skywalker Family Drama, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regnumveritatis/pseuds/regnumveritatis
Summary: Luke/Rey Tudor AU with him as Mary I and her as Philip II, I promise they end up much happier than their historical counterparts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YAY: 100 works in Luke/Rey
> 
> Here is the historical list'  
> Rey: Philip II of Spain  
> Luke: Mary I (Unjustly called 'Bloody Mary' due to the strong Anti-Catholic propaganda of England, there's a story behind why I made him her)  
> Leia: Elizabeth Tudor who will not be Elizabeth I in this fic because there'll be a baby.  
> Dead Galen: the late Edward VI  
> Kanan: Emperor Charles V/ Charles I of Spain  
> Wedge: Jean Scheyfve, Ambassador of the Holy Roman Empire from 1550-1553  
> Finn: Don Juan of Austria, hero of Lepanto  
> Kylo: Don Carlos, firstborn son of Philip II who dies young and insane after being incarcerated for trying to kill his father and seize the throne

Spanish Court, September 23, 1553 (Rey's POV)

In another world where mankind hath but two designations in biological law Doña Renata, Alpha Princess of Asturias is born Don Felipe of Spain. In both worlds they sire a son born amidst death who, despite their family's best efforts, is destined for little more than tragedy and madness. For Don Felipe, who went to the royal nursery to visit both his son Don Carlos of nine years, and his bastard brother of 7 years, the future Spanish legend John of Austria, whom Felipe has already fought for his father, the Emperor to acknowledge. But the Spanish King, while happy to have his son in court, still harbors guilt for siring a child outside of matrimony so he does not yet yield. One day among countless others. The Crown Prince Sword plays with both the children and apart from his son's temper tantrum once his uncle wins, which are sadly common, it is a perfect day.

For Doña Renata the same day does not flow as gently, though no one can tell the reason why.

In her world, Don Kylo's tantrum begins much sooner; when he asks if his 'whore-born' uncle can live somewhere else. She slaps him once the words leave the prince's mouth and as a result he rants Don Filoteo Natán (Finn for short) has no right to be in these chambers. Screaming his lungs out as both of the Emperor's children leave the room quietly. Perhaps it happens because she is a woman and so she arrives with sewing needles hidden in her dress’s pockets instead of a sword. Perhaps it happens because the bastard in this story has skin colored like the slaves from Africa. In the end, such matters are not as important as the changes they brought.

The Princess takes her little brother by the hand as they run through the halls, a sight so common to the staff have nicknamed it: 'The sun chasing after the moon'. It is well known among the Court Doña Renata would prefer her natural brother had been born her son. Few disagree, for even a dark-skinned beta Prince would be more favorable to Spain and its dominions than a lunatic Alpha heir. The realm already has one monarch locked away in Tordesillas, the Mad Queen Assaj. No need to add another to the list if it can be helped.

As they race past the corridors, Finn trips and scrapes his knee. The Princess picks him up, nuzzles his chocolate curls to make him laugh and forget about the pain. The nearest open room belongs to their ambassador in England, Wedge Antilles's, but he's not scheduled to come back for a month. Besides Renata met the man a couple of years and he was very sweet to her and Finn, more importantly to Finn. Ambassador Antilles called the Spanish Infanta by her nickname Rey instead of the stuffy 'princess' title and gave Finn sweets so he's a decent fellow in her book.

She's almost finished cleaning the wound with her now ruined handkerchief when she and Finn see men's shadows looming over the door. Not wanting to get Finn in trouble but knowing they'll be caught if they go out the way they came Rey takes his hand and leads them both to the Ambassador's wardrobe.

"How long do we have to hide, Rey?"

"Until they go away, little knight."

"They're opening the door. Should we keep quiet now?"

"Yes, that's a very good idea."

The Infanta keeps a tiny bit of the wardrobe open, just in case the newcomers are 'unsanctioned' visitors with motives far less innocent than hers and Finn's. Rey's little brother digs into her dress pockets, most likely searching for the rosary beads she keeps there. Prayer is always a good idea for these types of situations, she's proud of him for knowing that at such a young age.

Rey's heart almost stops at the sight of her father, Emperor Kanan Jarrus walking inside with the not yet due Ambassador Antilles who shuts the door as if the news he's about to tell is of the utmost importance. Finn almost rushes out to greet him but she holds him tight and tells him softly to remain quiet, recognizing the gaze of a Monarch and not a parent for the moment.

"All right, Antilles: what was so important you rushed all the way from England a month early? I'm sure King Galen will be most displeased with your unexplained absence at Court."

"Majesty, King Galen is dead. His older brother, your cousin prince Luke has finally assumed his rightful place at the throne of England."

Growing up Rey had heard rumors of the should-have been King of England. He was born an Omega, the only surviving child of King Vader of House Skywalker and Infante Benjamin of Aragon. Discarded along with the rightful King Surrogate for the Brie harlot who manipulated England's king into declaring himself Head of The Church with her dark magic. Neglected by his own father, and labeled illegitimate: as if the Catholic Monarchs' and Shmi of York's grandchild could ever be anything but Royal. The prince forced to scrub floors and empty the chamber pot to Brie's little bastard and so desperate for affection that in the end he'd raised the harlot's child as his own.

Antilles says this tragic figure is now king with reverence. As if every wrong committed by the scarred mess of a King that was Vader I can be erased with the man who was both pitied and mocked across the Kingdoms of Europe. The once-boy whom she saw traveling playwrights ridicule in a stage where an actor depicting the true King Benjamin addresses him and yells 'The womb in your gut ruined everything!'* is meant to save the souls of England's people? She wishes him fortune, Heaven knows he'll need it.

"Antilles: part of me pities the late king , to die so young.."

 "Perhaps God punishes those who allow heretics to dress their kin in rags for refusing to turn their backs on Rome."

 "Still, my cousin is a devout Catholic. With luck, England shall reforge its bond with the Holy Sea. But there is the problem of succession, it would be blasphemous to allow the fruit of my uncle's suffering to inherit the throne."

Antilles sighs. "Majesty, the new king is 37 and still unmarried. Most assume he will simply leave his half sister as queen. Luke and the Lady Leia are open to an alliance against France. Still a preferable outcome to her cousin, the Queen of Scots whom I should remind you is engaged to the Dauphin. "

 "Spain did not refuse to accept the Brie whore as Queen and cut off ties with England till her head rolled on a spike so the true-born lineage of England be replaced by a witch's brat. No, Luke must wed to continue his dynasty. He must find a suitable consort." 'We're in agreement father. Heresy's offspring should not don a crown so easily.'

"Have you any noble or royal candidate in mind, Majesty?"

"The Princess of Asturias would make a fine Queen for England."

Upon hearing those words, Rey's blood freezes though not in fear, in fury. Father had promised to arrange a marriage with the Beta Princess of Portugal. She'd wanted a consort capable of acting as regent and bear heirs so she might annul Kylo's position. Instead her father has disregarded that to promise her to a man who will have his kingdom to rule and as such cannot occupy the role of Spain's protector, if she is needed elsewhere. A man old enough to be her father, not only that. A man who COULD have been her father, since Luke was originally engaged to her father and only broke the contract to gain Princess Hera of Portugal's dowry.

While Rey's response is quiet anger, Finn's is unrestrained confusion tinged with furor. "You can't marry my sister to an old man!!"

And just like that their well selected hiding place is given away by the screams of a younger sibling who is yet to fully comprehend their place in the world. Father opens the wardrobe and finds his heir presumptive and natural child hugging each other. When Emperor Kanan asks for an explanation Rey is quick to tell the truth but Finn just wants to know why father is 'mean enough to marry Rey to a stuffy old maid'.

Father tells a maid to send her brother to the physician and clean his scrape properly. The Ambassador recognizes their need for privacy and so his chambers without being asked.

"To marry Luke Skywalker my king?"

 "Look for the inconvenience, you won't find it. Your union would restore Spain's ancestral ties with England and by giving the country an heir Papism* will be perpetuated in the kingdom. You and I would collaborate in the crusade against heresy. And you would become Queen of England."

 "We discussed other plans, Father!"

 "Your plans are my plans."

 She looks at the melancholic figure before her eyes, and remembers the king when his Empress still roamed the earth. The Emperor's vast dominions had robbed him of many moments, fragments of his family's life which duty had not permitted him to witness. Rey remembers being angry at him for missing her brother Ferdinand's funeral. It had taken her a while to understand that it was quite literally impossible for him to fight a war, and rule a country, and be there for them at the same time. Part of her always kept striving to be good enough so her father would stay, is still struggling to gain his approval. But the fact is that the Infanta remembers how Emperor Kanan came back and just held his wife's dead body, lamenting she was gone. He even blamed himself, saying his excessive carnal love had killed her. That 7 pregnancies had been too deep a trial for the Empress's body. 'Father why can't you see that by marrying me to a foreign king, the same fate might be thrust upon my shoulders?'

"I will make your decision mine. But know this: when I take your place, I'll pay attention to other people's wishes and not just mine."

The Emperor gives no direct answer to her statement, He simply tells her to find Titian. Rey refuses, she will not have her betrothed know only a portrait. She figures the man is probably sick of portraits anyway. Luke had plenty of those drawn throughout King Vader's reign; still faces that he never met. Promises sent by ambassadors who said he'd be the Duke of Ferrara or Dauphin of France yet still left him growing old untouched. More cruel jokes than tangible means for the unwanted child of a decrepit king. No, if this marriage is going to be taken seriously then Rey needs to go to England herself.

She sails with Ambassador Wedge Antilles to the country they bid she rule soon enough, bringing only two handmaidens, a small satchel bag for her possessions and a goodbye letter signed by Kaydel and Finn.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is a slight change to a real life play in which Eustace Chapuy's reports say that the actor depicting Katherine of Aragon yelled to the child acting as Mary 'You came not a Prince but a lowly girl and hath ruined all!'  
> *Papism: 16-18th century term for Catholicism.


	2. Chapter 2

London, October 24-27, 1553 (Rey's POV)

The Infanta's first wishful thought in regards to the English people is they prove more trustworthy than their God-forsaken channel which scared the wits out of her loyal handmaidens, and bereft the Princess of proper food in her belly several times. She's tempted to spit at Ambassador Antilles a few times; temper incensed by the fact the Basque gentleman can remain perfectly unchanged while the rest of them suffer. When they finally step off the boat, she all but kisses the ground. Rey can almost hear little Finn requesting they never perform such a voyage again.

'Cielo santo, I miss my little knight. I suppose he'll be one of many that I must learn to miss constantly from now on.' While Rey's heart might ache for her little brother, a few more days she figures there's nothing to worry about. Princess Kaydel has stayed at court and she loves Finn dearly. The youngest child of Emperor Kanan and Empress Hera is a force to be reckoned with: cunning, efficient in whatever task they hand her and fiercely protective of her own. Rey pities the future courtiers who will try to sway her, thinking Kaydel's Omega designation shall be enough to be granted certain priviliges. If anything Kaydel is far more deadly than the Alpha Princess of Asturias. It'll be marvelous to watch their faces when it becomes glaringly clear to them.

Her wish for lack of treachery is soon followed by the desire that the women of this country be less inclined to dress as Beelzebub's lackeys. Not a minute after they start walking the small Spanish crew is met with the sight of their welcoming party. The Scottish Ambassador seems like a good man but for the life of her Rey can't understand how he allows his wife to expose her chest so readily. Just what kind of land have they entered? Once the Scottish Ambassador has led their small retinue to a carriage, Rey expresses her immediate desire to have the scandalous attire removed from the country and replaced with the far more virtuous Spanish cut. The look Wedge sends her could melt solid steel.

"Why am I being glared at for wanting virtue restored to these misguided souls?"

"Infanta: What I am going to tell you must not reach the ears of your father, or your ladies. Am I clear?"

'Pray tell, what could be of so grave a nature that you utter these words?' "Had you stayed longer in Spain and news of your possible betrothal spread many would have said the new King is not fit for you. I disagree: you are unworthy of him."

Perhaps it's the Alpha instinct which kicks in or the fact that her own Ambassador has called her, a descendant of House Jarrus and House Syndulla unfit for a match, but whatever be the cause Rey slaps him for the impertinence. Her nails leave a mark on his cheek, and she has to restrain herself from growling. Blasted predator instincts, why she couldn't she have been born a beta?

Antilles shows no outward sign of fury, no resentment, no signal he is cursing the day his parents selected this career for him. He just waits for her senses to return. As if what she considers a gross misconduct which she will never forgive herself for doing a daily occurrence; his bread and butter. For a second she's filled with the terrifying notion it might be a common sight, and she's entering a court of evil where loyal functionaries are beat and pious women forced to the rack and flog. Afterwards her logic takes hold again as she mentally agrees that no Christian court could ever stoop so low but the thought remains at the back of her head.

"Infanta, should you allow it I shall explain myself to the best of my ability."

'I owe him more than that after he watched over me and my ladies in return for unwarranted aggression.' "You may explain why you find me unsuitable for the king. I suppose you're among those who still label us usurpers. Did your grandparents fight against my great grandmother Tahl the Catholic and her husband Qui-Gon?"

"No, I firmly believe the Catholic kings saved Castile by freeing it from Tahl's weak cur of a brother. My problem with you is not related to your bloodline, rather the fact you're a royal."

“So far you've only succeeded in confusing me Ambassador."

"Royals teach their children that sooner or later, a monarch must be cruel if they wish to be fruitful in their endeavors, keep your morals at bay when it suits them. His Majesty is not so inclined. He is always true to his conscience, which means according to your class he is not wily enough or ambitious enough to succeed. What God praises your class throws to swine."

She's not sure how to respond to his blunt honesty without casting the blame on somebody. Rey thinks that proves the Ambassador's improvised philosophical dialogue right more than any counter-argument she could create, but chooses not to. The rest of the journey is spent in silence and Rey feels even more guilty when she starts wishing for her lover Don Pablo Ezequiel de Dameron. Ex-lover she corrects herself, father had told her to choose between a new marriage and keeping Poe's company. He'd broken it where she hadn't been able to yet, citing one son was not enough for the line of succession and the Portuguese princess Phasma was capable of bearing legitimate heirs. In the end, when things are considered the Infanta Renata doesn't miss his 'carnal' attributes as she does being with someone who loved her because she was 'Rey' and not because she was rich or powerful.

Maybe that's why she's decided to see her new husband in the simplest way possible, instead of opting for the accustomed trumpets and fireworks fanfare befitting her status. At the time she'd just assumed the action was done to gain some sort of power over the Emperor, as well as granting an actual opportunity for her betrothed to meet her and spare Titian some long needed sleep hours. It takes the carriage three days to arrive at St. James Palace, the English Royal Family's home away from home. The palace is built with red bricks which shine when the sunlight hits the structure at just the right angle.

Since she is only 'the Ambassador's niece', there is no celebration to herald her and her ladies; only a meal prepared to break their fasts. Probably for the best: from what she heard on the boat, Rey infers England's 'Protector of the Realm' left the country in a precarious economic situation. Now is not the time for banquets. She didn't come to make a difficult time even harder to bear. The English maids give them clothes to change into but they're all in that dreadful low-cut which must have been made by a lecherous drunk tailor peeved he never saw any woman's breasts. Rey thanks them for the offered garments but doesn't go to sleep; the Infanta decides to inspect the one part of this large property which will determine whether or not she'll have an occupation: the Gardens*.

She expects a bundle of those supposedly red on top of white roses the English don on their coat of arms. What she gets is much, much better.

It was said King Vader spared no expense with his gardens. Rey sees the truth of these words as she marvels at the delightful microcosm of green-and-white-pole fencing, heraldic beasts and herbs present in the garden's framework. Her fingers brush over the Arbours grown in the English palace's outdoors with an oak framework, and smiles as she lightly feels the petals of honeysuckle, summer jasmine and sweet briar which thrive over these climbers. Hoping she's breaking no rules, Rey presses her nose to the sweet smelling gallica and damask rose relatives for a moment. When she returns to Castile the Infanta definitely has to include some of these new flowers in her cultivations.

Maybe she can pick a bulb? Just one tiny piece she can grow and cultivate later? It's not as if she's going to harm the plant. Years of practice have left her with an adept hand at this sort of activities. Besides, this will be her garden soon enough. She has a right to this flower as future Queen and eventual sire of a prince or princess of Wales. Doubt cast aside the Infanta's hand moves from the damask rose's petals to the stem.

"I'd prefer it if my garden stayed intact for the moment My Lady. I put a lot of effort into it."

Rey turns to face the distinctly male voice and sees a man roughly her height dressed in simple clothes, palms dirty with the soil and forehead covered in sweat. He is blond and comely, though age has begun to take a slight toll it does in a manner that highlights the wisdom of his years. There are slight wrinkles surrounding his face and his hands bear cracked and dry skin, a clear sign of his life spent in hard labor. A few gray hairs have made their way into his beard. The man's likely spent his youth tending to the garden and here she is changing it without putting his tasks into consideration. What would mother think of her now?

Rey wants to answer back to the gardener, but finds herself incapable of doing so. He has spoken in the English tongue, a language she has to master. Only the tone of his voice along with the way he keeps looking at the bulb she was about to cut's direction have clued her in to what he's said. She makes a note to find a tutor and learn how to answer back that she's sorry as the first lesson.

Perhaps she could answer in Spanish? After all, the man looks old enough to remember King Benjamin and it was known that he taught many servants how to speak in Spanish in case they ever needed it. True, he was probably very young when he last spoke the language but Father always says what we truly want to keep in our memory seldom goes away.

"I'm very sorry to have trespassed on your garden Sir. I assure you that I meant no harm." 'Please understand me, please understand me....' The gardener looks at her as if she were a ghost, a sort of melancholy realization which is lost to her crosses through his face as he stares at her Spanish cut gown.

"I trust your word, my lady, but please ask before leaping to action in the future. The next person might not believe you or understand your apology. What part of Spain do you come from?"

She smiles upon hearing the Spanish tongue roll off his tongue, grateful her grand-uncle's legacy has not been fully erased from England. It gives her hope that the King may find her speech pleasing. Rey chats briefly to the gardener about her childhood home at Granada and her present (former) home at Madrid where her little brother and sister live. The Infanta tries not to use any ostentatious words since he might not know how to read, the gardener notices quickly and informs her his father taught him letters so she need not censor herself for fear of confusing him.

"And who was your father? What was his role in the palace?"

"He served King Vader for 17 years, until he was sent away where he could serve no longer."

"Was it because he loved King Benjamin too dearly?"

"No, it was because he was loved the Prince too dearly."

He does not seem older than her when that sentence escapes his lips. For a moment Rey thinks he bears more resemblance to a sad child who carries a sorrow not entirely understood, than a man who undoubtedly must have several children of his own. Married with a pretty spouse who gave him lovely blue eyed babies. She's about to ask for his name when a noble woman, or at the very least rich, given the detail of her gown which would be splendid if not for the ghastly French cut, raises her arms in the universal sign of thanks to the Lord and grabs the gardener's arm. For motives unknown, the sight of the ivory skinned woman with alluring chocolate eyes and rich brown hair which falls just short of her shoulders in a pearl knitted hairnet makes her jealous. It gets worse when the gardener smiles fondly at what must be his patroness and bids her farewell in a hasty bow which was a bit too low for a commoner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Not many people know this but Philip II was actually an avid lover of horticulture, he would spend hours in the garden taking care of his plants. His sister Empress Maria used to tease him about how he would rather tend to 'strange butterfly shaped flowers' (He brought orchids to Spain) than go hunting.
> 
> Hands out tin cup: comments please????


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of the flashback chapters which shall encompass the reign of king Vader/Henry VIII and Galen/Edward VI.

July 9, 1520 (Luke's POV)

"*Tristeza, no.n auretz de me,

Qu'eu m'en vau, chaitius, no sai on.

De chantar me gic e.m recre,

 E de joi e d'amor m'escon."

The music flows through his fingertips beautifully. He can see it in the eyes of the Venetian Ambassador Sebastian Giustiniani, who seldom displays admiration openly. His tutor claims this piece is almost always played by older pupils, brimming with pride at the young prince who is still partially vexed he only learned the last verses of the trobadour song meant to dazzle the foreign ambassadors in time. His father, the king surrogate Benjamin, had told him he pushes himself too hard, that he is but four and a half, leaving plenty of time to learn. It doesn't feel as if he has much too time though, not when he's betrothed to the dauphin and is going to be wed at age 12. Father says Cardinal Valorum has arranged too soon a marrying age, that France should wait till England's Prince of Wales has reached 14 so as to prevent miscarriage. The King Regnant's blue irises gazed disappointingly upon his husband when he said that, their son prays it's not because father lost a baby not so long ago.

Luke tells himself there's no need to worry. King Vader is human and as such, he cannot be expected to be content at all times. At least he's happy now, watching his only surviving son's grace with the Virginals. The Prince decides he must learn more, if he wants to keep his parents happy. His Latin skills are progressing nicely, as is his French and Spanish: but his German leaves much to be desired. That has to be remedied, otherwise he shall be unable to communicate with his cousins in the Holy Roman Empire. For now, he focuses on the melody. Immersing himself in the role of minstrel to these foreigners whose children or relatives shall most likely address him as King. A good monarch places conscience, duty and truth foremost, the King Surrogate always says. His son intends to live by these words.

Concert finished, he stands and grants a small curtsy to the audience. Thus recognizing their importance whilst behaving in accord to his royal status as their guests leave towards the chambers assigned to them. King Vader smiles proudly at his child and picks him up to seat at the throne. He dwarfs under the large yet athletic arms of the King who has fondly remarked his son will possess the late Queen Shmi's height. It is to expected really, few Omegas ever grow tall. If anything, the prince's petite stature will make him all the more desirable a suitor since common superstition claims small Omegas are more likely to bear Alphas.

"Aren't you the most beautiful child in the world, Luke?"

He blushes at the question. "I don't know."

"Stop being so humble. Are you a prince or a servant?"

"I'm servant of the realm."

The king raises an eyebrow at him, surprised that a child so young has responded in so serious a manner. "Indeed you are my son. Truly you've answered far more wisely than I would have at your age.

He beams at the compliment. The whole court laughs merrily when the Prince Of Wales responds to his father by kissing him on the chin, since he can't reach His Majesty's cheek yet. The two blond figures are affectionately referred to as 'the sun and morning star' by Sir Thomas More, a philosopher and longtime friend of the royal family who has recently begun to influence the Prince's education at both Kings's behest. Luke enjoys Sir More's company. The nice older man takes him star-gazing and doesn't laugh when he says someday men will walk on the moon. Sir More offers to take the prince to his chambers but is told such an action is not required though much appreciated by Firmus Piett, Duke Of Suffolk and most loyal of King Vader's lords. It is said if King Vader orders the Duke to die he would open his shirt and place a sword in the hands of the King. Does Luke believe it: he absolutely does.

"Lord Suffolk?"

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"How do you always keep the King Regnant happy?"

The older man stares in bewilderment at the question.

 "And why do you think that, Your Highness?"

 "Because when he smiles at you, it is real."

 

It's a very serious question to the young Prince. He's noticed recently some of the smiles King Vader directs to his spouse are hollow; no more real than the forced diplomatic pleasantries given to an Ambassador or a visiting Noble. King Benjamin is the opposite, in all things save the smile he directs to his son and husband a mask of seemingly stone-cast serenity. He doesn't understand what his birth father could have done to merit such cold behavior. Benjamin Kenobi has given his utmost loyalty and deference to the King Regnant. What could possibly make a monarch be so unfeeling towards one whose greatest desire is to love and serve said Royal person?

Suffolk makes use of his free hand to massage his forehead. Luke has a feeling he's just asked an extremely difficult question, one the courtier is not allowed to reveal at a whim. 'How foolish and inconsiderate of me to inquire the personal affairs of my courtiers. I must be more understanding if ever I wish to be a good and merciful father of the realm.'

"I shall not ask so intimate a question again, my Lord."

The Duke sighs, and crouches down to meet the Prince's gaze. He can tell by the determination present in his vassal's eyes his question will be answered. Speak nothing good man if the words cause you harm, I would rather lose all my toys than bring woe to a faithful subject.

 "Your Highness, I know not why your sire delights upon seeing me. I am quite ordinary. I do not accompany him to great pleasures nor do I pretend to enjoy things only to please him. The only logical conclusion I concur is His Majesty is content to have an honest opinion amidst so many politicians."

"So, if one is always honest to the King Regnant, then he shall happy to see this person always?"

"Perhaps. I make it a point never to presume what goes on the mind of a crowned head."

 

Prince Luke shakes his head in approval, and makes a note to tell his birth father lying is not allowed. Perhaps then King Vader will smile at his husband like he used to. He knows father loves his King Surrogate, otherwise Vader would have followed Cardinal Valorum's wishes and wed the French princess once King Cliegg died instead of the Spanish Prince whom only the old king wanted him to marry. They're just having a difficult time right now, like Sir More when his aging hands falter a little bit while adjusting his telescope to fit the mathematical calculations. They'll fix things eventually, just like the older man managed to get the proper adjustments after a while. Both his fathers are ordained by God and no force on earth can tear this bond asunder.

In January of 1522, Shira Brie shall sail from Calais, and this innocent belief will be shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Final verses of Bernard de Ventadorn's Can vei la lauzeta mover.  
> English translation:  
> Sir Tristram, none will hear from me:  
> I’m off to exile, who knows where;  
> I’ll give up singing and resign  
> and hide myself from joy and love.
> 
> Hands out tin cup: comments pleaseee?????


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical list part II  
> Finis Valorum: Cardinal and Chancellor Wolsey.  
> Firmus Piett: Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.  
> Jyn Erso: Cardinal Reginald Pole  
> Han Solo: Lord Robert Dudley, aka: The dude that was in love with Elizabeth I all his life.  
> Ryoo Naberrie: Lady Jane Grey who will NOT be killed in this AU.

October 1-2, 1553, English Court (Leia's POV)

 In another world, negotiations for the marriage between Philip Hapsburg and Queen Mary Tudor take place in January of 1554. These matters take so long because the Queen requires those who would have her Protestant sister upon the throne come forward to court and swear their allegiance, attempting to prevent bloodshed. A tedious process which takes many months, but renders little success; it is well known that, while Elizabeth may not be foolish enough to commit treason and some vestige of Mary's once strong filial bonds remain, both sisters are now enemies in the spiritual and political battlefield. And so the Protestant flock still to the image of Lady Elizabeth and the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey, because what was worshipped in one church was deemed blasphemy in another and no side is free of fanatics. Such is the way of their century's England.

In this world the Monarch is still crowned at Westminter Abbey, driven through London in a carriage drawn by six horses which meet rows of cheering crowds. The chosen garment is still a rich purple with ermine edges, the monarch's humble circlet of gold is still considered far too simple by the onlookers of noble blood, though the common folk praise the King has chosen not to waste their money on gaudy jewels. The main carriage was accompanied by Knights, Bishops, Lords and immediately in front of this carriage was the Privy Council. Various senior Nobles were in front of her carriage – The Lord Chancellor, the Earl of Oxford and Knights of the Bath. In both worlds the monarch places his sister and former mother-in law are granted places of honor for the drive but here is where is the differences begin.

Queen Mary Tudor, the 1st of her name and long may she reign, provides a carriage behind hers with Princess Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves in it. Behind this carriage rode a number of “gentlewomen”. It is a sign of cordiality and to an extent a validation of status for both ladies discarded by the same king; however for Lady Elizabeth Tudor it is also an unspoken reminder from her older sister. **_'Never forget that whilst I live, you are not my equal_**' is written into the miniscule details of the seemingly generous act.

Luke Skywalker, the 1st of his name and long may he rule, still provides a carriage large enough for both Ahsoka of Cleves & the King's sister, to which the Lady Leia protests only that the carriages should be farther apart. She has made multiple efforts not to outshine her brother on his day and erase any misguided concepts of possible treason, has dressed in damask green instead of any colors hinting at royalty, has strategically placed a Catholic cross over her gown and foregone any hints of a crown over her head, choosing only a few jewel-studded pins to decorate her rich brown hair. She is a vassal, not a future usurper. If God is good (She doubts that the Holy Father cares at all, Luke never does) then her reign will be twenty years from now, when Luke has outlived their horrid, scarred and tar-soul villain of a father by decades.

When she's about to step in the carriage to begin the procession her brother stops, seemingly confused with her decision. He takes her lovingly by the hand, the way he's done for as long as she can remember. It's far too public a display for noble-blooded individuals but neither of them care. They've spent nine years living in fear of poison and being unable to walk on the streets together because the threats would always grow whenever a peasant of any kind saw her brother, the child of King Vader whom bore the greatest physical resemblance out of his three living children and called him 'Your Grace'

Now, with the looming shadow of assassinations gone, the siblings relish all chance to partake freely in the other's company. Leia finds it marvelous, and blesses the occasions when Luke brushes her hand ever so casually. Though she fails to understand why he stopped her from taking her place at the procession.

"Is there something wrong with the carriage, My King?”

"Take your place by my side. For thou art my sister, and in you flows the blood of English kings."

At first Leia's far too stunned to act, then she replies such an action might be seen as too gentle for a King. It's a logical thing to say in her opinion. What is acceptable for an Alpha is judged thrice as hardly for an Omega. Luke is the first Omega King since the days of Queen Bastilla and while she fought beside her men and was considered Monarch of England by her troops and her husband's land of Anjou she never ruled. It was her Alpha daughter Satele who was anointed Queen and established a new dynasty. This whole affair is new ground, every step they take a rule breaker.

Her argument doesn't get through his benevolent, yet thick skull. Leia ends up standing in the carriage with him. She keeps her hand lower than Luke's as they wave to the crowds. The message is clear to each and every witness: ' ** _We have come together and no force shall convince us to break faith with the other._**' Halfway through the procession her smile becomes real upon recognizing members of the same crowds that chose to walk across the country and inform Luke he was king instead of swearing fealty to the Naberrie girl promoted by Garris Shrike Solo. They give her hope that the people's love will prove earnest. In the City the carriage containing the Skywalker siblings stops and the Recorder of London read out a speech professing the loyalty of the people of London and he gave to Luke a gold thread purse that contained 1,000 gold coins. Luke quietly orders a handmaiden to check how much of that can be used to lessen the debt. Near to St. Paul’s an oration is read out to them in English and Latin, the first step towards the restoration of God's true Church.

The day is a colossal success. It leaves behind any doubt Luke's reign is not wanted. Leia's only peeve is that his new status forbids her to creep into his rooms and gossip about the day as was their habit. The last thing he needs is rumors of incest like they accused her mother of. She likes to think on that ground she was innocent, but it is of little matter to Leia Skywalker. Shira Brie died long before May 19 of 1536, when she saw her birth mother hit Luke for assuming the role of Latin tutor to Leia and the 'Queen' threw a vase at him which left a scar on his cheek he hides with a beard. He claimed it came from a fall, she'll never understand why he helped conceal a crime of her mother if he hated her so much.

The next morning Leia's ladies assist her to dress. She chooses a white dress with Italian sleeves to avoid the fore-sleeves. A messenger informs her Luke called for her in St. James's audience room. She powders her face lightly, adds a touch of red to her lips and rushes over. Along the way she sees Han Solo, the son of Garris Solo who was among the crowds that walked to her brother, difference being he rode on his faithful steed Falcon. The young lord had told his father the plan was folly but Garris refused to heed reason. No surprise really, after all this was the same man who accused Luke of conspiring to kill Galen using the fact he still took Catholic Mass. Han shed no tears when his father's head rolled, their relationship had soured after rumors said (truthfully) Luke had converted him in 1549 when he was sent to 'ask' her brother to cease his 'heresy'.

Han winks at her as he passes by, Leia is too busy running to respond. In the audience room she's met with the sight of the Imperial Ambassador, a few ladies she fails to recognize, and of course her brother. Once she's seated Luke motions with his right hand they may begin. Antilles bows fully, one of the handmaidens with him stares in shock before remembering her etiquette lessons and curtsying before the King who smiles before speaking.

(What follows is the actual conversation between Mary I and the Spanish Ambassador taken from entries of Ambassador Renard who started his job in December 1553, only I modernized it a bit and change names and genders. Also, I change Mary/Luke's response regarding Leia/Elizabeth cause the true response was for her to say 'half-sister.')

"I am grateful for this, Ambassador. I doubt not you shall take a promise of fraternity to my cousin, the Emperor."

"Which he will correspond sincerely. Such is his desire for concord with you that as a link he doth hand you his daughter."

Her brother steps back a bit, and takes a deep breath. She wonders what transpires through his mind at the moment. Luke has been betrothed so many times now, he has a chest full of 'future spouses'. Near the end of their father's reign he'd yelled to her and Ambassador Whitesun, saying it was useless to hope for he would never be married just as he would never be king, though the second proclamation drew no tears from his face. The second declaration's been proved false, Leia hopes the first stays true. Yes, Luke can choose to marry now, but Cardinal Erso was right when she said it was best Luke never marry. On a political note, England is far too delicate at the moment for Luke to die in childbirth and far too stubborn to accept a foreign Alpha who won't speak a word of English when she arrives. On a personal note Leia doesn't want to lose the only person who truly loves her in this maggot-ridden world, be the cause childbirth or a broken heart. 'Tell them you're too busy to consider marriage or say you took a vow of chastity. Say anything so long as it means you don't accept their crazy idea.'

"The whole of Europe seems intent on marrying me. The crown of France hath also procured me a suitor." That's a denial of sorts, I hope they understand it as such and **_leave us alone_**.

"Of so high a rank as Cesar's heir? And who is guaranteed to inherit also Spain, the Indies, Naples and Sicily?"

'If you're trying to lure him with power, Wedge, then its proof your master knows nothing of my brother. You'd be better off citing the Castilian tradition that on royal weddings they hold a table where bread and leftovers are served to the poor'. By the look on his face Leia sees the King is not taken by this means of enticement.

"A woman, in the end. One whose company I am not prophesied to find pleasing. Why is solitude perceived as a fault when it is a gift?"

Wedge's face turns and she knows he doesn't want to do this. Oddly enough it is one of the handmaidens whose face morphs into a slight panic. She goes as far as to whisper into the Ambassador's ear who's run out of words or will to carry out his master's bidding. Leia picks up the scent of foxgloves, what a strange scent for an Alpha.

"Majesty: Loneliness will grant you not the heir England requires. It shall only ensure it be your sister the Lady Leia who succeeds you."

"The Lady Pembroke, Ambassador. Refer to her by the title rightfully inherited by her mother's blood and acknowledged by me." He lowers his head and waits to speak again, "How is thine princess's character?" _'Oh come on, you cant possibly be considering-'_

"Her Highness is pious, decided but sure. A lover of music and gallant in her behavior."

Her brother laughs, and Leia's tempted to join in. After all if every Royal fits their Ambassador's description, then the courts of Europe have only knights in shining armor, skilled diplomats and well-toned Venuses and Adonis's for inhabitants. Surely now the matter's laid to rest.

"I suppose as always, believing you is a question of faith." (End of historical conversation)

Antilles grins, as if he were capable of conjuring up Luke's tenth or twentieth 'betrothed' out of thin air. 'Did the voyage cause him to lose his mind as it causes most to lose their stomachs's contents?'

"In regards to my lady's spiritual virtues you must trust my word, which I give yet her bearing you can judge for yourself. This is my niece, the Lady Renata named after the Royal. She often plays decoy for the Infanta in her most dangerous journeys because to look upon her is to see the face of Doña Renata."

The girl in question is pretty enough, from the English standard at least. None of the 'unseemly curves' her father so loathed in Lady Tano appear in this youthful face with alluring hazel eyes and maroon locks which are cut short, set shoulder length to differentiate her Alpha status outside a rut. Her hands display the traditional aristocratic softness, though the slight callus at her palm indicates she has a more rigorous hobby than listening to music. All in all, just one more comely face. She's not the ugliest but not the most aesthetically pleasing either.

Leia thinks the Duke of Bavaria was much more handsome, plus he asked permission to court her brother. If she ever wanted Luke to wed **anyone** it would have been the German Duke who promised he'd ask Vader to let her live with them permanently once he and Luke married. Biggs died unmarried in 1547, one more life ruined by King Vader.

Another point against the girl is set when she addresses Renata in English all she can muster is a heavily accented 'sorry' that comes out sounding like 'surri'. And if that's what an Ambassador for England's niece knows of their language the Infanta will speak even less. She's waiting for Luke to say a fancy diplomatic version of 'no, thank you' when without warning her brother kisses the hand of the Spanish Princess's look -alike and inquires about roses? In Castilian. 'What do roses have to do with this?' The lady smiles and says from now she'll try to flatter the gardeners in case they all turn out to be Kings. It's there that Leia puts the pieces together: this is the girl from a few days ago when Luke almost missed his audience with the French Ambassador. The girl she teased him about being smitten with. 'Really God, you had to make the only Alpha's Luke's swooned at in years be part of the deal? Is this punishment for what my birth mother did to Luke and so many others?'

The king blushes when the girl talks, looking more fresh-faced than she's seen him in a long time. Leia blocks out the rest of their conversation, only briefly processing when Luke takes her hand and non-verbally asks if she's all right. It doesn't matter he excuses himself to the Spaniards in order to take her to the physician once her temperature spikes a tad out of pre-heat fever she ignored until now. She saw the gleam in his eyes, the sparkle at the thought he might have his own children instead of contending himself with nurturing a bastard girl already grown up, and being godfather to the servants’ children.*

As her hands get clammy, Luke shuts the door to protect her maidenhood. Leia thinks she should have known better. There is a price to pay when you venture near the throne, and never a cheap one. Luke hugs her and imprints their sibling bond to lessen the impact of her god-awful body reactions, the way he's always done since they first hit at thirteen. Leia doesn't want to think about how she's going to manage them when Luke is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mary I really was godmother to her servants' children during the final years of Henry Viii, the reign of Edward VI and one last time for a maid's daughter in 1556. 
> 
> Hands out tin cup: Comments please???


	5. Chapter 5

English Legatine Court at Black friars, June 21st, 1529 (Kenobi's POV)

For the first time in over a decade, Cardinal Valorum and his loyal handmaidens stand in agreement over a matter of grave importance. In earlier tides such news would have brought him joy, now he is bereft of happiness. Day by day this 'Great Matter' emerging inside his beloved England manages to sink his spirits a little further. Not that he'll ever allow such debility to reach beyond his mind of course. He is the King Consort of England and before that; he was the first Omega Ambassador* in Europe as well as the son of Spain's Cathoilc Kings. Not for him, the sobbing nights of damsels so frequent in the minstrels, not for him the right to shed a tear, even alone. Benjamin Kenobi remembers the last time he was involved in so stressful a conflict between those whom God chose to cast as family. On that occasion the issue came not from the lack of children but rather stemmed from the fact that his sister Assaj reclaimed as she had given birth to her son (his beautiful Alpha nephew) it was only fitting she return with her husband, the Archduke Ren Dooku Hapsburg to the Flanders court, completely disregarding the Council of Lords when father asked for her opinion in state matters. Assaj was an Alpha, but she had a temper befitting the worst of demons when she angrily yelled to king Qui-Gon that she was faithful only to her husband as he berated her to act like the Infanta she'd born as and not a lovesick novice.

Father had apologized for his sister's outburst and said under his breath he wished Feemor or Xanatos were still alive so the woman barely recognizable as his daughter under those fits of madness would remain far away with her treacherous husband whom later rumors claimed King Qui-Gon murdered. In other moments father vocally expressed he felt Benjamin should have been their first or second born. It didn't matter much to him, however Benjamin saw it he was alone. Mother struggled with her health due to her beloved daughter's outbursts, Father sought to keep Spain as the vibrant nation he and Queen Tahl had nurtured and keep the French King from claiming Naples. Dooku sought to use Castile for his own purposes and also to serve as the French King's dog. Assaj had abandoned all logic and wanted to forsake her newborn son as well as her native kingdoms, all his other siblings had long since perished or left for their respective marriages.

When Queen Tahl recovered enough to continue her duties, due perhaps to the fact Father had allowed Assaj to leave for Flanders, telling him privately that he'd prefer if her husband dealt with her lunacies, and bid him farewell on the voyage to England, the young Prince was secretly desperate to leave, hoping England would allow him some much needed peace and quiet in the years where he and Princess Satine watched King Cliegg rule.

In what he'd considered a rare stroke of luck, his hopes had been exceeded. Princess Satine had been beautiful, tenacious, compassionate. Her parents welcoming and delighted to have him in their country. Benjamin truly thought he'd endured the worst of his hardships on November 12 of 1501, making his official entry into the City of London. The King Consort can still remember the sights and smells of when emerged from Lambeth riding a mule trapped in the Spanish manner. Beside him was Prince Vader, Satine’s brother who seemed quite besotted and on his other side rode a papal legate. He was wearing Spanish apparel, it would be the last time he ever did so. His auburn hair hung loose with a coif the color of carnations. On top of the coif he wore a little hat that looked like a cardinal’s hat, made of braid with lace of gold holding it on his head.

The admiration of the English followed him all the way to St. Paul's where Kenobi and Prince Vader, dressed in silver tissue embroidered with gold roses, arrived at the west door of the cathedral as trumpets sounded. An elevated walkway had been constructed from the door to the altar, six hundred feet long so everyone could see the proceedings. The walkway was covered with red carpet which had been tacked down with gilded nails. Vader blushed as they processed slowly down the walkway. At the high altar where the ceremony was to take place, a round stage had been built that gave the effect of looking like a mountain. Satine appeared on the stage, also dressed in white satin. She was surrounded by the Archbishop of Canterbury, eighteen bishops and attendants dressed in colored silks and cloth of gold. Vader turned the groom over to his sister in what Benjamin thought would be the first day in a long and fortunate life.

Then Satine died, his father wrote Ren Dooku refused to have his oldest nephew Kanan raised in Castile and Benjamin Kenobi came to the bitter realization that's no such thing as luck.

Perhaps he should wish his parents had arranged a marriage with some other Royal, but he doesn't. Somehow, in spite of all which has transpired and all that's yet to come, Benjamin Kenobi still loves his husband. 'Perhaps I'm just as mad as Assaj, the only difference being that I didn't relinquish the dignity required of my status or love my husband more than my child.'

He's brought back to the present by his faithful Sabe announcing the arrival of Cardinal Valorum. The man's aged a decade in less than a month. 'Good that's what he gets for supporting the French and placing a potential bastard child descended from merchants over the Prince of Wales.'

The Cardinal bows before him, reminding Benjamin of the frightened deer his brother-in law so loved to hunt. "Chancellor: would you be so kind as to explain why I am unable to speak with my husband?"

The Cardinal appeared to have developed a tick. "Numerous state affairs engage His Majesty."

“Where and how did these include forbidding my son's letters* arrive?"

He could tolerate being told to relinquish the Crown Jewels, though they would have to fight much harder to have Queen Shmi's jewels on the head of that arrogant, heretical cow. He could tolerate how his beloved husband no longer cared to visit his chambers even for a small parley and denied him entry to Council meetings, could look away as Vader held a jousting tournament for his Concubine. The reduction of his royal stipend made him inwardly glad he'd never been a hefty spender and also highlighted the loyalty of his servants when none of them left upon hearing they might not paid in the near future but losing the last link to his son- That was unacceptable, that he would reclaim as long as there was still breath in his body.

 "Is it not enough that he takes my privileges away one by one? What is the aim of such cruelty?"

 "Come to your senses and the tides shall turn favorable."

 "How can I if by doing so I deprive my son of his rightful inheritance? Luke's legitimacy will **never** serve as exchange currency!!"

 "In that case my Lord, excuse me. I am required for matters of state."

Valorum turns to leave, the Infante turned Ambassador turned King whispers into his ear just as the clergy man's about to exit his chambers. "Vader will not have his way. Procure to be safe when he learns this and pray my nephew welcomes thee to his court. If not then one day, your Eminence, my disgrace shall be yours."

The next day, mere hours before the trial, Cardinal Valorum approaches him yet again. Benjamin wonders if the increased agitation in his gait comes from Cardinal Campeggio's instructions to delay the matter until it can reach Rome, or from how the crowds tried to attack Vader's harlot when she arrived earlier this afternoon. Either way, it provides his household with a bit of much-needed amusement.

"The mere appearance in front of a trial is a humiliation no Royal Consort should endure. You, so well-loved by the English deserve to avoid this unworthy moment. There's still time. Do justice to the King Regnant. Acknowledge that you lay with his sister when you were married."

 

Obi-Wan stood tall and stood his ground. 'No, I didn't lay with Satine but I wish I had, if only so I could have born her child which would have been King or Queen, and then marry Vader so we could rule as coregents,' he thought. "And then?"

 

"Ask to enter a monastery, like so many other gracious men and women of noble blood."

 

"I''ll gladly go to a monastery: if my husband does the same. Since, if I am indeed 'guilty', then both of us must cleanse our souls of the same blemish."

 

"Though you may not believe me, I only seek to find a solution worthy of England's King Consort."

"And to assure, with this, my husband's success. Would you be here if anyone believed this trial will resolve in his favour?"

"Defying a King's will is risky, Your Grace. You could end up on the scaffold. Say not that I haven't tried. I expect you'll be seeing Bishop Windu now, since he is your representative."

"The good Bishop will take up my cause tomorrow. Today, I defend myself."

"With all due respect my liege: What do you know of Canonical Laws?"

 "I knew even less of War, and yet I fought at the front of my armies which killed James of Scotland while my husband fought in France."

Cardinal Valorum bows in what he perceives to be genuine respect. Tragically comical how all this had to happen for Finis to unequivocally understand they were both on the realm's side. From his room, Kenobi can hear the crowds scream bloody murder and that's how he knows Vader's Concubine has entered the room. So far the best comment his maids have brought him comes from the Milan Ambassador who called Brie 'An impatient bitch by day, and at night a virtuous novice, for the King at least.’

Shira Brie arrives holding the King's arm, standing as if she were already triumphant. 'Foolish tramp in her abhorrent French cut gowns, the King will tire of her as he did all the others. Only with this one it will be worse because you thought yourself capable of controlling him all on your own. When the lion knows its own strength only Providence can stop him, I'll win my cause for God is with me. God deemed that Luke will be the first Omega King Regnant of England.'

"Benjamin, King Consort of England, appear before this court."

He does not answer when they call him, to do so would be to acknowledge both the Court and its legitimacy. Thus cancelling any chance the Holy Sea might interfere on Luke's behalf. Whatever happens to him now is irrelevant. All that matters is to ensure what rightfully belongs to their son, the boy on whose birthing God granted him a vision of ascending as King of both Spain and England and the New World, kneeling are the courts of Castile with the ring of St. George on his hand. Luke will rise higher than any previous monarch Vader descends of, he will finally show the world an Omega's merit and when that glorious day occurs his woes and blood will have been well-spent.

Benjamin rises from his chair, walks over with all the grace he can harness and kneels, assuming a posture of complete submission as his eyes never look up despite the King Regnant cupping his chin and telling him nonverbally to rise, he does not stand for in this sole occasion he will be a husband before a monarch and not the other way around.

(What follows is the authentic Katherine of Aragon's defense speech to the Legatine Courts, except for the small conversation between Vader and Obi-Wan.)

“Sir, I beseech you for all the love that hath been between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice and right. I flee to you, as head of justice within this realm. For twenty years I have been to you a true, humble and obedient husband, ever comfortable to your will and pleasure, that never said or did anything to the contrary thereof, being always well pleased and contented with all things wherein you had any delight or dalliance, whether it were in little or much. I loved all those whom ye loved, only for your sake, whether I had cause or no, and whether they were my friends or enemies."

"On your feet. We are neither Regnant nor Consort here but spouses _.” You addressed me as your husband Vader, by doing so you've handed me another tool._

"Then why should Man separate what God has united? When did I stop being the spouse who knew how to gather your people’s love? Are these not your own words, so many times repeated?"

His expression is almost soft. "Inside and outside of England, it is known I am a man who speaks too much."

The jury's faces are a medley of doubt, recently developed admiration and a twinge of fear which only emerges in men's eyes when they fear death. Exactly the type of reaction he'd hoped for, now he can plead his case to the Pope.

His husband's nearly tender eyes cause him to yearn that Vader kiss him when he stands from his given seat to attempt he relinquish humility. For one brief wondrous moment Benjamin Kenobi is gifted the feel of his King's chest against his bejeweled doublet, he inwardly damns his feeble Omega hormones which make it so much harder not to nuzzle into his husband's body and beg he love him as before sobbin- No, he cannot sob. Not one tear, or it's all over. He is Benjamin, King Consort of England. He is the unexpected Negotiator, the Jewel of Aragon, Qui-Gon's pride and Tahl's joy. He is 'Obi-Wan' as the illiterate peasants called him, when he rode victorious for London with the dead Scottish King's cloak as a gift for Vader and shouted a complicated Latin phrases which most of his subjects could not understand so they just shouted back what it sounded like. The fact he was not born for merriment does not grant him the right to hysteria.

Vader raised a brow. "Infante, you should take a seat and wait for the tribunal to ask you."

With pleading eyes the King Consort responded, "In the name of charity spare me and our son this humiliation."

A memory flashes back to him, of the ten year old boy who also called him Infante as they danced so merrily at his sister's wedding feast. The same boy crying at his mother's funeral and taking his hand instead of the old King's because the latter is too consumed by grief after losing two daughters and a wife in such quick succession. _'Where did you bury that boy Vader and it was it my fault he was buried in the first place? Why can't you see our marriage was true? If it weren't I couldn't possibly love you this deeply...'_

His expression remained soft. "By me you have had many children, although it hath pleased God to call them from this world, which hath been no default in me....If you will not extend to me such impartial favor, your pleasure then be fulfilled, and thus to God I commit my cause....But when you had me at first, I take God to my judge, I was a true maid, without touch of man. And whether this be true or no, I put it to your conscience.”

(Ending of Katherine of Aragon's real speech to the Legatine Courts of 1529)

He kisses the King's hand, soft and masculine and beautiful. Finally he stands.

"Stop!" 'Oh Valorum, you were doing so well...'

"If you leave this hall you will be declared rebellious."

"Do as you wish. I shall not tarry in this court: for I do not acknowledge its authority."

Bishop Windu offers to take his arm; the crowds immediately bow to the sight of their true King Consort as he walks outside. 'Obi-Wan' is cheered and hailed with blessings and flowers as he steps into his carriage. The people recognize what he told Luke not so long ago: the King Regnant can keep and entertain one or twenty-one women whose spouses all consent but he has only one Consort to which he owes the crown which bears his properties.

 

 ** _God_** ……he wants to see Luke again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In 1507 Katherine of Aragon became the first female Ambassador in European history.  
> *Henry VIII really did start doing this to Katherine of Aragon with Mary's letters in 1529.
> 
> Hands out tin cup: comments please?????


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical list part III
> 
> Shira Brie: Anne Boleyn  
> Saw Guerrera: Bishop Stephen Gardiner  
> Ahsoka Tano: Anne of Cleves  
> Breha Organa: Kate Ashley, governess and mother figure to Elizabeth

November 3, 1553, English Court ( Luke's POV)

 

He stays by Leia's side until her heat ends. By late afternoon of the fifth day, their faithful Threepio no longer has to change her sheets and Leia doesn't suppress any pain when he leaves her side longer than a few hours. In typical Leia fashion, she instructs her ladies to please ready her for the Court, berating herself for the duties under-lapped in this unwilling sabbatical.

 

The lingering fragrance of cool mountain pine impregnates his sister's pristine white night gown, caring not for the light of rose oil carefully placed on her neckline. His mind compares it to snow in the Welsh forests of Ludlow where Father sent him at age ten. Snow dotting the ancient trees in which local members of his small household claimed the faeries dwelt. He'd wanted to see the fair folk as a child and ask them to bring Father back to his senses so he wouldn't send his family away with the infinite belief of childhood. These days he's trying not to let anybody know just how much he has doubted God.

 

Cardinal Erso wrote in reply to his letter announcing the death of his brother and all that came with it, her joy leaping over in the calligraphy. His cousin and supporter stated all Luke had suffered was to prepare him for the task ahead, so he would not falter in his task to save the poor common folk subjugated into heresy. It felt so wonderful to write to his childhood friend, to write to anyone really. Knowing your letters shall not be cross-examined for signs of treason is a marvelous sensation which he had almost forgotten

 

The question comes from a servant he has yet to familiarize himself with; a girl of twelve or thirteen. A slight tremble takes hold of the young maid's body when he looks at her directly in the eye but quickly ends, clearly she's not used to higher ups recognizing her presence, not in a deferential manner at least. Luke observes the youth refraining herself from running her chapped fingerprints through those pale blond locks which shine gold in the candlelight to relieve tension, to men incapable of reading the secret betwixt one's eyes, she reveals nothing. The unwanted Skywalker siblings share and non-verbally communicate the same idea to the other in that moment: _this girl could prove a keen ally, provided we win her loyalty first._

 

He fixes her with a warm smile. "You have nothing to fear from us, child. Pray, tell us who you are and what you were sent here to do.

 

She curtsies and returns his smile somewhat shyly. "My name is Madurrin, your Grace. I am here to dress the Lady Pembroke for Court, though I will also assist your royal person should it be required of me."

 

They continue to treat her with warm affection. "Thine commitment is noted but I will dress my sister. If it be not a bother to you, please stand watch." The girl's face is briefly shocked but quick to do as she's told, she reminds him of Mistress Breha who so diligently attended Leia when all the other assigned handmaidens left the 'no longer princess'. Poor Leia has the heart of a true Empress but sadly not the bloodline.

 

The new king had sent for the dear gentlewoman, but was informed by her husband she was in delicate health, preventing what he had hoped to be a pleasant reunion, as well as the certainty of someone his sister could fearlessly confide in. For all his supposed saintliness, or monstrosity, according to the Nobles tied to Luther's heretical prose and all that came with it, Luke Skywalker is no longer prone to trust.

 

For nine years he has slept with one eye open, walked with bodyguards to Mass for he and the fellow Catholics who attended fearing the day their meager chapel would be stormed upon and all of them slain. Ever since the Brie harlot (whose sole redeeming quality was birthing Leia) sent him to Hatfield where his hands lost the softness associated with noble blood and every fine cloth which was not black was stolen, replaced with working garments which ceased scratching his skin after the first year the 'bastard' Prince, now King, has slept with a knife under his bed. It proved useful for warding unwelcome visitors seeking to tarnish his purity, the last thing which marked him as the true born child of two lawfully wedded kings.

 

'I thought the looming shadow of death would be vanquished if ever the crown was placed on my head. Instead it's grown. At nearly every corner outside my small circle I fear assassination. No wonder the last Lancastrian king went mad, if this is what bearing the Royal mantle encompasses. Please Lord, keep me sane long enough to carry out thine bidding. Give me leave to restore that which should have never been cast aside.'

 

Luke begs whatever saint is commemorated this hour, to maintain such thoughts far from Lady Pembroke's knowledge, whilst adding a kirtle and fastening a corset to Leia's knee length, square necked smock.

 

Her arms stay open as she waits to be dressed. Leia's warm smile fades into a subtle frown. "You leave too much space for rumor, my King."

 

Luke didn't allow his expression to shift so very much. "It is the nobles's habit to gossip. We've gained the common folk's approval, a far more earnest price in God's eyes. Worry less about your reputation, as far as London's concerned, they're not worth so much as the tiniest bit of your fingernails."

 

"Brother, the common folk cannot read or write. It is the nobility who hires scribes to dictate history. Success of our reigns will require a high amount of publicity. We must ensure Protestants be tied to the dark of this age past and the true faith associated with splendor."

 

His Majesty almost pierces Leia's skin upon hearing 'our reigns' as he pins her sleeves. He carefully places the misdirected pin aside before he asks, "Our reigns?"

 

She lowers her arms, pushing forward the white fabric of the first dress and fixing the ruffles on her sleeves. Leia's face delicately softens. "England would not accept a foreign Regnant: which means you must never marry and this places me as your heir. It will make a wonderful public image, the Virgin King, chaste as the cross which he kneels to adore. Unconquered in heart, and rendering obedience to no master save Duty and God."

 

Luke picks up the second dress, the black damask interwoven with white silk a startling contrast to his rough skin. He adjusts his hold so it does not offend his skin so. "And whom do you marry in my reign? Surely five Skywalker monarchs is not enough for you? Without a successor your life as Queen will be full of uncertainty, your enemies capable of unraveling all accomplishments through the lack of a head to bear your crown."

 

She holds back a scoff. "The Yorkist King left behind two Alpha princes, yet destiny still ensured our omega grandmother was the only child of his to be crowned at Westminster."

 

Luke moved in a way which showed his unease. "Nevertheless, marriage provides a sense of stability for the realm as it brings the possibility of an heir. You swore when poor Oola Howard's head rolled you'd never wed an Alpha, but there are Betas who might fill in the role. Yet you've turned down every royal suitor whose portrait I showed you."

 

Leia rolls her eyes. "They were meant for you not me. I am the daughter of a whore and a tyrant, you are the son of Benjamin Kenobi. Just as you are too high born to settle, I am too low born."

 

"So if I offered Ambassador Antilles your hand in marriage to the Infanta this would be your ground to reject the offer? Don't look at me as if I was offering you a poison chalice, Leia. You would make a glorious Queen of Spain. At any rate they'd prefer a 21 year beautiful heiress to a greying King whose heat is becoming more painful with each unattended month. Please say yes, the Infanta will probably gag at the thought of sharing a bed with me."

 

"Hers and every other royal."

 

"Which means securing the Spanish alliance falls on my shoulders."

 

Leia rounds on him. "Did you take leave of your senses before, or after the coronation?"

 

Luke stands steadfastly. "I will do what is necessary for my domain to be free of the debt thrust upon us. A binding alliance with Spain gives us access to loans. Since the Infanta already has a son our progeny would not be obligated to live in Castile but it would guarantee us a portion of the commercial ties to the new World, ties acquired legally and free of piracy's stain."

 

"Prostituting yourself for the good of the realm? How virtuous of you."

 

Luke's nose wrinkles like she's just shoved something foul smelling beneath it. "Do not speak in so loose a fashion. I am owed a level of dignified respect, as your elder brother and as your king."

 

"You say thus yet you'd lower yourself to a Princess who is unfit to wipe the grime off your boots. A woman who was unfaithful to her first spouse and will no doubt be unfaithful to you with her Catalan lover."

 

"Good, then she can close her eyes and picture her paramour when forced to lay with me."

 

Leia grants him not permission to lace together the strings in her brocade, wool and silver braid trimmed bodice: a clear sign that she's grown frustrated with him. She always sews when fury takes a hold of her in situations demanding proper etiquette. How fortunate the Alpha male who in the slightest rage is given proxy for duels fought with sword or ones's bare hands.

 

Frustrated she turns to look upon him. "Luke, Heaven could not have placed for me a better brother had our Madonna hand-picked an angel to guide, but please be cautious. I don't want a revival of your poor Aunt locked up in a tower."

 

He cups her face with his worn hands. "I swear to you her fate will not be ours."

 

She places her head on his chest, dark chestnut waves cascading through his bejeweled doublet. It seems be Leia one, or twenty one years old, she's yet to outgrow her need for physical comfort from him: and may she never do so. Quicker than he would prefer, Leia breaks from the warm embrace. Luke's not fully decided regarding how he feels about his little sister bowing to him in accordance to Royal protocol.

 

The king prevents her from kneeling again, having decided such actions are unnecessary amongst siblings who were brother and sister longer than any of them was addressed as 'Your Highness'. She playfully raises an eyebrow at him, places a Gable Hood upon her pretty head and leaves for her sewing circle with other noble ladies of the Court. A soft kiss brushes the lower part his bearded cheek. He wonders if Leia deliberately pressed her lips on the scarred portion of his visage.

 

"I'll see you for the Council meeting?"

 

He smiles. "Oh yes, come midday I shall have the pleasure of watching you publicly buffoon those who are now in power. With the exception of Hadrian Solo. No man wants to see his future brother in law humiliated."

 

Leia lifts an eyebrow. "Majesty, dare you suggest I might be courted by our friend and ally?"

 

"If he does, tell him the truth; and let that truth come from your heart and not thine past."

 

"I'll do my best brother. I too have tired of ruling powers breaking oaths as commonly as paupers beg for coins." She pauses. "Best we switch to Castilian; it seems your living portrait has followed our walk."

 

'Has she? If so, I failed to notice her but that's to be expected. My left ear never fully recovered from hiding in that Bell Tower during the Irish revolt six years ago. Hard of hearing, disfigured in the back and graying, I'm nobody's first choice. I never will be.'

 

His Majesty turns to glimpse the niece of the ambassador, whose face shows a great deal of embarrassment upon being discovered. Lord grant him strength, he still doesn't know what drew him to the girl, but she is lovely. He's changed enough dresses to know when, after removing the 4-5 layers, not a single piece of flesh moves. And they plan on giving a human of such fine quality to him? Poor Kanan must have gone mad as well.

 

As if sensing the awkward emotions quarreling within him, the girl bows in absolute perfection. Luke does his best to avoid contemplating the exquisite manner in which her Sicilian styled veil falling down accentuates the green intertwined with parcels of honey in her eyes as she rises. 

 

She speaks to him in Castilian. "Your Grace, I am sent by the Spanish Ambassador to ascertain if rumors of the betrothal to the Emperor's heir being altered to bind the Princess of Asturias to the daughter of Shira Brie."

 

'Oh for heaven's sake would they let that go already?' he thinks but never utters out loud. "Rest assured, my lady, those rumors lack any base."

 

"What a relief. God would surely cry us a new ocean if a bastard married a Prince whilst a King died untouched."

 

He stares at Renata, wondering if this unmerited dislike towards his sister is the product of that loathsome conduct towards natural born children or simply the new generation's hatred to a false queen thrust upon her unbeguiling child. Either way it is unwarranted, not at all welcoming to have if the two nations will (miraculously) renew their centuries long alliance to amity he recalls in his childhood.

Luke speaks to her gently. "My lady, if it be no trouble would you walk through the gardens with me? There are matters we must discuss."

The girl smiles and follows suit, her grin another flower among those woven unto her bright yellow dress. If he didn't know any better Luke would claim Wedge's niece actually finds him pleasing to the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands out tin cup: comments please??


	7. Chapter 7

Gardens of Saint James Palace, minutes after last chapter (Rey's Pov)

When she was little, Ezra Bridger, the Duke of Alba, would praise how accurately Dona Renata read the stories written across a person's face. The long-time confidant and general to Spain's royal family would bring her portraits of nobles from different countries, instructing her to decipher the secrets kept in their gaze without telling her which country they called home or even their names. During Father's last war with the German Princes, Rey's mentor had advised her to look upon the living as she had the paintings whilst addressing the Court in the regency*, a counsel she took to heart with all the seriousness her sixteen year old mind could muster. Quite a lot her father said, far too grave for one so young the courtiers whispered. The Princess of Asturias had never failed to correctly interpret how a figure of high blood thought or felt in Spain, the Netherlands or the German duchies. She's failing abysmally now to comprehend the King Father wants her to wed.

 

The King does not dress according to his station, does not expect the immediate respect due to those born of Kings. When a passing Lord bows and addresses him as 'Your Grace', he baffles Rey by restraining shock in his blue irises. When a servant does the same, Rey catches a flicker of instinctual fear at the words he is quick to mask, passing one digit over his ring finger as if reminding himself he is England's ruler. With most Nobles, her disguise would serve to have men swoon over her, proclaiming how loving a low born maid would be 'freedom' from their dragging routine. Men and women are usually quick to look for a little love to snatch here and there, even if the new King is an Omega Rey expected him to place trust in his Kingly status and seek pleasure where it could be found. Luke only touches her hand after she effectively pretends to trip, prepared to avert his gaze if necessary. Another matter she cannot comprehend is how the new King has not reveled in the fact he need never again dress in rags. Barring his coronation attire, the man beside her continues to refuse the splendor associated with the Royal wardrobe and allows the harlot's daughter to outshine him in fashion. His chosen apparel for the day is black fabric lacking carefully detailed embroidery or jeweled trimming. His only ornament are the ring which bears England's Royal crest, should it be needed for stamping and the crucifix crafted in the same style of her grandmother's clothes from before Queen Assaj was....relieved of her duties to the realm. 'Does the King know my grandmother? Is he old enough to have seen her reign? I've no idea of his age, save that it is far ahead of mine.'

 

Rey's inner soliloquy is abruptly broken by the unexpected sensation of someone placing a grapping knife in her hand, she looks up and sees that her (hopefully, lest she disappoint the Spanish Empire) soon-to-be-fiancée is the one that's placed the gardening tool in her hand.

 

She is taken aback. "Majesty? Why hath thou given me this?"

 

The King smiles. "I thought as you were so eager for a bulb from my roses upon our first meeting, the opportunity to fulfill this wish might appease your mind enough for earnest conversation."

 

She slightly lifts her free hand coyly and ghosts it over his arm, searching once again for the desire which rakes ordinary men's hearts. "And what does His Majesty call earnest?"

 

When Luke responds, tis with a longing and far away look in his eyes. "Speech free of the diplomatic courtesies which hound all Royal born, regardless of what they are proclaimed."

 

Another character trait of his which contradicts all logic, it is known a royal will never find a true friend outside the field and so must always guard their tongue. When fortunate, a Monarch has his family, but even then cousins are only to be trusted at face value, siblings remain the true quintessential ally yet history has no small amount of fratricide. And here is a crowned head of Europe, daring to presume what he believes to be a lower member of foreign nobility will converse plainly with him, as if they were truly a pair of gardeners tending to flower beds. 'What do they teach the English?' Quietly as can be managed, she trims the rose bush so it be a fair trade rather than a gift, which he may use against her. Truth be told, Rey harbors little hope for the most politically sensible reasoning behind possible causes for this escorted walk, which would be too simple an explanation for the puzzle Luke Skywalker presents.

 

Hazel eyes sneak a glimpse at the realm's protector as he fondly strokes crimson petals, careful not to harm the blossom. She's filled with an inexplicable want to trade places with the bush, transform like the wood nymphs in Ovid's Metamorphosis and let him touch her neck as tenderly as he does the flower's corolla. 'This is what happens when you abstain from pleasures over a month without the satisfaction of a bonded mate. Soon enough the first pretty face is enough to make you throb.' 

 

Luke looks at her, puzzled by her deeply thoughtful expression. "Are you well good lady?"

 

Rey relaxes her countenance. "Thine concern be quite generous, your Majesty. Yet there is no need for worry. Tis naught save the sun's effect on my countenance."

 

Her calm stance becomes real when the ghost of a smile passes his lips. Christ allow she may draw a full grin from the man who looks her father's age, who represents a time she never had the privilege to inhabit. Is her betrothed so mature? If so that places him at half a century by the earliest. Does father expect the miracle of Sara and her Isaac to be had in her matrimony? Rey's smile becomes staged yet again at the thought of raising this man's hopes up with the frailest of possibilities for a hypothetical child only to bring further ridicule at a barren womb which might have proven fruitful ten or twenty years ago.

 

'Of course the blame shall be cast on me if the royal cradle is left empty, not Luke. My firstborn showing signs of madness so early in life* is damning 'evidence' to the Protestants, every Lutheran uses it to proclaim how God smiles not upon my future reign.'

 

Luke is all concern. "When my sister's affected by the sun so long she retires to her chambers and drinks warm milk with honey. Mayhap you should do the same."

 

Rey wipes the sweat from her eyebrows in a fashion her dearly departed mother would loathe to prove she's feeling perfectly fine, the lace in her veil is warm but alas she cannot remove the cloth from her head. The Infanta bites her lips as she ponders how to breach the matter of the Concubine's brat possibly usurping Luke, shamelessly taking advantage of the gentle trust her Lord and brother placed on his _natural_ sibling(that is, if she's really the late king Vader's offspring and not the spawn of one of the Brie bitch's lovers) as her mother did when placed as King Benjamin's lady-in-waiting.* As her mind recalls Ambassador Antilles's predecessor describing the violent outbursts presented by Luke's father when some brave souls dared to contradict his opinion, or was unlucky enough to be chosen as bearer of bad news, the Spanish Princess furthers the sharpest gardening tools from the new King's reach before speaking.

 

She approached with caution. "Majesty."

 

"Yes, good lady?"

 

"Pray you would be so kind as to permit I giveth my earnest opinion regarding a matter of State?"

 

Luke accepts with a nod of his head. "An unexpected form to carry out my wish for honest speech but nonetheless welcome, my Lady. Make your reasoning known to us."

 

Rey stands firm as she speaks. "You give thine half sister too much power. She enjoys a seat in the Privy council. Furthermore, you hath gifted her a title and lands to go with it. If His Majesty is not cautious, then she will take your generosity for weakness and depose you of the crown God's will granted thee."

 

She was surprised by his response. "Had my sister coveted the throne, she'd have taken Lord Panaka and Garris Solo's offer to crown her a Protestant Queen. Instead she turned them down and they looked to the Naberrie girl."

 

But still she insisted. "Perhaps she lies in wait for the right moment, accumulating wealth and leading your Court astray. They say she is prone to anger, that she charms men into following her wishes. Not unlike the heretical temptress who ensorcelled your father to leave his true consort."

 

It's not as if her argument is baseless. Her great grandfather's bastard nephew had challenged Qui-Gon's right for Naples and the whole mess which was/is the Italian Wars began as a result. King John had granted his eldest control of the region with the clause that, upon his death, the crown would return to his younger brother. A clause which the appointed King was honorable enough to include in his will. Despite the son being a man of his word, War broke out anyway because the Prince of Naples insisted Qui-gon was not the true heir and got the French to start claiming previously conquered lands in the Mediterranean, later adding insult to injury once he and the French negotiated support from the Borgia Pope. Sixty years later, Spain and France are still bitterly contending on and off for the Italic Peninsula's domains. Rey's certain the one thing she's managed to read correctly with the man is his desire for a simple life. War will not grant him, or their children such a precious commodity.

 

The King of England gives no hint the Infanta's words are sound. His gaze is that of a tired parent who has to provide explanation for a child who won't listen. Hold on a minute, just who does he think he is? She is no blushing maiden who spends the whole of her days in needlework, dancing and prayer. She's been handling state affairs far longer than him!!

 

'I was handling what my father's troops would eat while you languished in poverty due to whatever foolish notion prevented you from mustering up an army against your brother and taking the throne he abused. Even disguised as a servant, I represent my kingdom and thus embody the strength of my house but that matters not to you. Yet mine own legate calls me, a true born Princess of the blood unworthy of thy hand in matrimony.'

 

A milliard of inquiries no sane courtier would dare utter out loud, 'desire for earnest speech' or not, race though Rey's head at the moment. Common sense prevails though, dominating over curiosity though the questions prickle at the back of her mind. 'Why does Ambassador Antilles admire you so? Your hardships at the hands of the Brie woman was long before his appointment, the harlot beheaded and buried without pomp decades ago. After which you lived at your father's court. And when he died, the old King left you a generous stipend in his will so how did you come to be dressed in rags? What happened in the years between your father's death and the present day, no one wants to tell me? What made you more restrained in touch than my own confessor whose vow of celibacy is kept pristine?'

 

By the infinite grace of God she breaks out of her self pondering before arousing further puzzlement on his behalf. She expects him to continue the shameless expression of amusement. After all, most kings assume they need ask forgiveness from God alone and years spent with a father who was mad enough to believe he and God were of the same authority must have left its mark somehow. But instead he seems aware of the slight, his eyes hearken remorse and something else. Some momentary but undeniable emotion she's never experienced is hidden in the parcel of sky God lent him.

 

Suddenly the years fade from his face as a mischievous grin crosses his lips and reaches the aquamarine tint stars which give him sight. 'Why did no one spread word of such eyes? My ladies would not have bemoaned how my marriage is to be a martyrdom for politics if they'd known of such jewels. To look upon them is all the earthly consideration I require and more.' Without warning he continues their conversation.

 

"Tell me lady Renata: did you accompany your Princess on her journey throughout the Holy Roman Empire's domains?"

 

Rey doesn't allow the surprise to reach her face. But somehow, when she gazes at his almost boyish expression, the Princess feels her cheeks redden. "I have traveled with her Highness on all her voyages. She has never sailed without me, nor will she ever. In fact you could say that she and I are one and the same."

 

"And what spake the Courts of Flanders and Austria in regards to my sister? The same foul libel which sprouted so seamlessly from thine lips?"

 

"Flanders mayeth not understand decorum as in Castile, yet it is true in its brazenness in ways your country has lacked for quite some time. Austria tends not to vilify without cause if it can be helped."

 

His smile does not alter, though his gaze resembles Sir Francis Borgia's grin when he beats her in rhetoric. "Is that so? How wondrous. Surely then you will have no trouble repeating the kind statements they hath no doubt showered upon me."

 

 

 

All the hypocrisy of her station is exposed at the seemingly harmless question. It is then she starts to see an inkling of the politician in him. Humble and earnest, this King may be: yet he is no dunce weeping hysterically once the Court is dismissed. Good in Luke's case since Luke and his Council have by all reports inherited a bankrupt country torn asunder by religious strife and greed, bad in my case for what he has asked of me hath no amiable response. In her trek across the continent 'Skywalker' was a popular theme in storytelling, but it was King Vader whom all ears were fixed on. His eldest surviving child's name had been demoted to a near voiceless cipher, a footnote in his family's interests. Whenever she did hear talk of the man accepted as Prince everywhere save his own Kingdom, each rumor gave more insight on those who spread such rumors than the person they were about. 'John Foxe in Frankfurt said you had a hunch back and white hair balding betwixt a permanent scowl. The dying Duke of Bavaria's servants claimed your tears after the Pilgrimage of grace grew into fruit tress which gave food to the unfortunate. The Calvinists called you a disgraceful crone who gave more reverence to the harlot's unholy bastard than your brother the King. The barefooted pilgrims in St Marias cathedral of Wetzlar gave trinkets they could scarcely afford to the altar and prayed for your ascension as Saint and Regnant of England. Your own Lords drunkenly told the Flemish Nobles bawdy tales of how the members of your staff were in fact changelings who served out of a pact with Satan to curse your brother and this was the source of his constant frailty. The rich demonized you, the poor canonized you in life and I've not the barest clue as to who you truly are.'

 

But all of this she did not speak aloud. "Such trivial words are oft recited in taverns or other homes to lechery. They are not meant for proper company's ears, Your Grace. Tis best for your sake I not repeat them."

    

His smile faded. "Which is the part that is not to be repeated: that I am old, or that I am sad? The claims sprouted in hate or ignorance which labeled me grotesque? Demonic? A bitter hag plotting in the shadows and shining daggers to plunge in every Godly man's back? Of those, I take no offense." He stops, a sad little sigh escapes his mouth. "I do not expect your Mistress to love me or call me beautiful. Furthermore, I want not for her to do these things. I learned from my father's last wife, respect runs deeper and lasts longer than beauty or romantic love. However, if your Mistress does not accept my sister, then we will have a bitter marriage. In that I do not yield."

 

He seems so indescribably old and wise in that moment, like a man who hath transcended the human scope of time now reminiscing on epochs past with a tragic air deeply woven into his bones. The thrum of foreign emotion earlier felt returns though this time is it coupled with the desire to cradle him in her arms as she did with her younger sisters and afterwards with little Finn.

 

His sudden lose of cheerfulness worried her. "Majesty?... I cannot ask you to place faith on the possibility a stranger may love you, but can you have faith she will protect thine person and endeavor to vanquish your rivals as her own?"

 

His earlier good humour returned. "A generous proposition, but I advise you not to mention these affairs so informally. I intend to rule by love of the people. To admit some wish me dead might bring others to question my right to rule."

 

"The little I have glimpsed of your land tells me they do love you, but pardoning most of the Naberrie girl's supporters is not the end of rivalry, you still have enemies."

 

"And so it has been a long time. One grows used to the sensation. Which is why I must know some things and admit others, a good Monarch will recognize the distinction."

 

"To live always in two worlds: one consisting of truth with all its outcasts and the other of what you allow to be true? Isn't that dangerous for a man?"

 

"For a man yes but for a King tis an obligation."

 

"For a Queen too I suppose.''

  
'Is that how Mother saw her duties to the realm? They loved her far more quickly than they did father. If anything she secured his throne*. Oh mother, you always knew how to find the secrets within men's hearts. I wish you were here if only to explain the strange fellow before me.'

 

Rey's train of thought is broken as a hand rough yet surprisingly gentle places the aforesaid bulb in her palm. This time the princess lets herself smile as she lifts the rose's petals to her face and absorbs the sweet aroma. And no, she's absolutely not wistful for more when he bows to bid her farewell for now as responsibility calls. Nor does she want to frighten the young man who brought their parley to an end. Such behavior would be undignified towards her station.

 

_Besides, there'll be more time for wooing later on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *When Charles I left Spain to fight in the Italian War 1542-1546, he left the 16 year old Philip as regent of Castile and its colonies. This made him de facto ruler of what was then the largest empire of the world. Charles left Philip with experienced advisors—the most important of these was general Duke of Alba who emphasized him to behave always with "piety, patience, modesty, observation, and distrust."  
> *Even as a little boy Philip II's son Don Carlos was difficult. He used to bite in the breasts of his wet-nurses and it was said that three of them nearly died of the resulting wound. He finally started talking at the age of five, but it remained difficult to understand what he said, because he couldn't pronounce the letters 'r' and 'l' till he was 8. He grew up proud, willful, and indolent despite his aunt Joanna and father's attempts to teach him calm, and soon began to show signs of insanity. At the age of 9, he was known to torture other female children, as well as servants and animals. He quite enjoyed roasting small animals alive, particularly rabbits, and once bit off the head of a snake.  
> *On her return to England in 1522, Anne was appointed as lady-in-waiting to Henry VIII's wife Catherine of Aragon. Wolsey writes that Katherine’s behaviour towards her lady-in -waiting was impeccable and that she:“shewed([neither] to Mistress Anne, ne to the king) any spark or kind of grudge or displeasure…dissembled the same, having Mistress Anne in more estimation for the king’s sake”. It is said that when one of her ladies started talking ill of Anne Boleyn, Catherine told her off saying: “Pray for her because the time wuld come when you shall pity and lament her case.” Of course Anne would not show the same courtesy towards Katherine once plans began for her ascension as 'Queen'. One of her first remarks against Katherine was to say she wished all Spaniards were at the bottom of the sea, when a fellow lady in waiting reproached her not to abuse the Queen's honor with such language Anne's response was 'I care nothing for Katherine. I wuld rather see her hanged than acknowledge her as my mistress!'. This was but the beginning of the ill treatment Anne would impart on Katherine of Aragon, her daughter Mary and others who dared to support their cause.  
> Isabella of Portugal was seen as more Hispanic than Charles right from the beginning due to his upbringing in Flanders. His early reign was tumultuous because many believed he was usurping his mother Joanna the Mad's crown and his father Philip the Handsome's brief rule had enemized the Flemish for Spaniards. When he first arrived to Castile aged 17, his convoy was confused for Ottoman pirates and attacked on the Spanish frontier due to their strange attire and speech. Also the Courts of Castile were outraged when he first arrived because he couldn't speak Spanish whereas Isabella spoke perfect Castilian from age six and had visited Aragon and Castile several times during Ferdinand's regency. Charles married her as an appeasement to the Courts shortly after the failed Rebellion of the Communes increased demands his bride be truly Hispanic or at least have Spanish blood so they wouldn't be governed wholely by foreigners. His announcement to marry her met with enormous public approval and the people wove flower crowns to welcome their Empress into Spain.  
> Hands out tin cup: Comments please???

**Author's Note:**

> Hands out tin cup: comments please????


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